


Beautiful Escape

by Accidental_Ducky



Series: Beautiful Monsters [2]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Roanoke
Genre: But give me time, Edward Mott has a soft spot, F/M, Little girl seeing ghosts and shit, follows the show so far, gratuitous use of Edgar Allen Poe poetry, he's basically a teddy bear around kids, mentions of other seasons, the ghosts in this are all assholes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8628193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidental_Ducky/pseuds/Accidental_Ducky
Summary: “What are you doing all the way up here, Princess,” Matt asks.“Dancing.” He shrugs, taking her hand in his and pulling her to her feet. She loved her uncle, especially when he’d scoop her up in his arms and run around the house with her, making airplane noises as they went. He didn’t do that today though, just leading her towards the stairs again.When Taylor looks over her shoulder, Priscilla is gone and dust still covers the space where she had been sitting.





	1. Priscilla

**2016**

“It was real scary,” Taylor says, staring down at her shoes as she swings her feet back and forth through the air,” like one of the scary stories my older cousin used to read to me.” She shakes her head, reaching out to grab her daddy’s hand for reassurance. “There were lots of dead things in that house.”

“How about you start at the beginning,” Sidney suggests with a bright smile. Her daddy referred to it as his Hollywood Smile because it was faker than most movies. “Why’d you move in with your aunt and uncle?”

“My mama went to Heaven to be with Nana.”

“Breast cancer,” her daddy states sadly, brushing one of his large hands over her hair. “It was pretty common on Monica’s side of the family; her mother had died of it when Mon was a teenager.” Taylor looks up at her daddy, taking in the familiar despondency in his dark eyes as he stared into the camera a few feet away from them. He was always sad nowadays, only giving her small smiles when he catches her watching him. _Daddy’s got a Hollywood Smile, too_. “I didn’t think Tay should be at the funeral since she was only six at the time and we were going to move in with Shelby and Matt anyway, so I sent her ahead of me to settle in.”

“I missed Daddy a lot.” She squeezes his hand again, managing a smile of her own when he squeezes back. “We would FaceTime every night and he would read to me until I fell asleep.”

“She wouldn’t go to sleep if we didn’t, you see. Now she barely sleeps at all no matter what I do.” And the dark circles under her gray eyes were proof of that, though they weren’t as dark as the ones under her daddy’s eyes. “We finished the first _Lord of the Rings_ book in two days, didn’t we, Princess?”

“Yeah, Sam’s my favorite.” He was small and brave and could do anything, that’s who Taylor wanted to be like. “We were reading _Princess Bride_ last year, part of a chapter every night.” She turns her gaze back to her sandals, looking whiter than ever against the light brown of her skin. Her papa on her Daddy’s side was Cuban, but she got her blonde hair and gray eyes from her mama. “How much longer, Mister Sidney?”

“Just a couple hours,” he says, flashing that thousand watt smile again. “What was your first thought when you saw the farmhouse?”

“It looked like some kind of castle, like a Princess was gonna throw a big party at any minute.”

**2015**

“It’s real big,” Taylor says as she makes her way up the curving stairs of her new home, her aunt’s phone pressed against her ear,” even bigger than the old house, Daddy.”

“It is,” Nicolás asks, sounding equally excited to the six year old. “Are you having fun there, Princess?”

“Yeah, me and Uncle Matt went on a walk yesterday to see how far the prop… The prop…”

“Property?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. We went to see how much of it there was and there’s tons of it! Aunt Shel said I wasn’t allowed in the woods by myself ‘cause there could be snakes and crazy hillbillies.”

“Are there really crazy hillbillies there or is Shelby overreacting again?”

“Uncle matt said one of ‘em spit on the porch when they didn’t win the house.”

“That’s nice.” Taylor laughs at her daddy’s tone, finally making it to the second-floor landing. Directly across from the stairs was a plain wall with a rounded window set in the direct center, a wooden pane cutting it in half to look like partially folded wings. “Have you seen your room yet?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna paint it yellow like Winnie the Pooh!”

“How awesome is that?”

“I get to help put blue tape on everything so the paint don’t get on stuff it’s not supposed to!” She was excited about that since her mama didn’t like her messing with tape too much since she’d gotten a big wad of it in her hair when she was little. She runs across the room to the window, peering out the right side and down at the yard below; it was mostly high grass and weeds, all tangled together to create the perfect hiding place for snakes. “I think you’ll like it here, Daddy.”

“I’ll like anywhere as long as I have my Princess with me. Hey, baby, the company’s here so I have to hang up, but I’ll FaceTime you later tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy!” She waits for the click before she lowers the phone from her ear, her smile turning into a frown as she turns away from the window. She really missed her parents, but she knew she’d be able to see her daddy in a couple of days at the most. Sighing, she takes a moment to study the landing, spotting two doors to her right and two doors on her left, though each side had a door that was even shorter than she was.

Curious as ever, Taylor moves across to the little door and pulls it open. It was just big enough for two little kids if they sat on their knees, though dust covered everything and made her sneeze. Taylor scrunches up her nose and closes the door before standing again, turning on her heel and running for the narrow staircase tucked into a corner on the left side of the room.

“ _I’m a little teapot, short and stout_ ,” she sings to herself as she ascends the stairs,” _here is my handle and here is my spout_.” The stairs creaked even under her slight weight, but she was exploring her new house and didn’t give the wood a second thought as she continued upwards. “ _When I get all steamed up, here me shout: Tip me over and pour me out_.” The room the stairs lead to is smaller than the one she left behind, completely emptied out with only a tiny window far above her head.

She giggles, jumping after the dust that was swirling in the beam of sunlight. Her little hands made the dust seem to dance and she danced along with it, wishing her mama was there to clap out a beat only she heard. Her mama was good at dancing even if no one else in their family was and they all used to push the furniture to the edges of the living room and dance along to whatever song came on the radio.

An echoing giggle had her sliding to a stop, letting out an _oof_ of pain when her bottom hits the floor. A little girl was standing across the room, dressed in weird clothes and a funny white hat; her cheeks were the same color as Mama’s were the last time Taylor saw her, eyes like black pits where the sunlight hit them.

“You’re dead,” Taylor says matter-of-factly,” and you made me fall.” The little girl stares down at Taylor, her head tilted to the side like she was looking at something she liked. “What’s your name?”

“Priscilla,” the girl states, clasping her hands in front of her. “Who are you?” She had a funny accent, like the people in the history show Taylor liked to watch with her daddy on Sunday nights. Taylor wasn’t sure, but she thinks her daddy called it Irish.

“Not a’posed to tell strangers.” Priscilla nods along in agreement, gliding across the dusty floor and sitting across from Taylor with her legs folded beneath her. “How come you’re still here if you’re dead?”

“The bad lady won’t let me leave.” There was real sadness in Priscilla’s eyes as she glances down at her hands, the same kind that Taylor saw in her daddy’s eyes. “She’s not gonna let you leave either.” Taylor opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but footsteps and her uncle calling for her interrupted.

“I’m up here, Uncle Matt!” The man appeared a second later, a crease forming between his brows as he looks around.

“What are you doing all the way up here, Princess,” Matt asks.

“Dancing.” He shrugs, taking her hand in his and pulling her to her feet. She loved her uncle, especially when he’d scoop her up in his arms and run around the house with her, making airplane noises as they went. He didn’t do that today though, just leading her towards the stairs again.

When Taylor looks over her shoulder, Priscilla is gone and dust still covers the space where she had been sitting.


	2. An Asshole of Epic Proportions

**2016**

"We heard a lot of noises on the first night," Taylor tells the crew behind the camera. "We heard them the entire time we lived there, but the first night was the worst. Even during the daytime, the dead man in the attic was pacing right above my room. He wasn't very nice."

"What'd he look like," Sydney asks, notebook in hand. Taylor wrinkles her nose as she tries to remember.

"Like one of those stuffy guys in that Pride and Prejudice movie my mommy liked. Sounded kinda like Mister Darcy too, except…" Taylor frowns and meets the man's stare head-on, curiosity burning in her eyes. "He wore a wig that looked like a messed-up ice cream cone." A surprised laugh has her looking up at her daddy, able to make out a shadow of what he used to look like when he was actually happy. "What?"

"Was it Mott, Princess," he questions with that faint smile that she never saw anymore. Taylor gives a curt nod of her head, happy to see her father's smile again. After an entire year, she was just glad she could see him out of his pajamas and out of court. "He was the original owner of the house I think, some fancy guy from England with money that would make the Royal family look broke."

"Whoever he is, he's grumpy and has bad hair." Nicolás muffles another laugh and hugs his daughter closer to him, smiling down at her fondly. "I told him he needed to leave us alone, that it wasn't his house no more, but he kept yelling for us to get out."

"Yeah, Mott was an asshole of epic proportions." 

**2015**

Taylor was the first one inside the house the next morning, her little backpack in her arms as she runs into the kitchen. It was bigger than her old kitchen and there were a lot of cabinets for her to hide in until Aunt Shel filled them with pans and bowls bigger than Taylor's head. "Can we paint today," she asks when her uncle comes inside.

"Only if you go help Shelby with your stuffed animals, Tay," he says, setting his box of plates and bowls down on the counter. Taylor knew what was in the box because her uncle had taught her the words just yesterday, going slow until she could read the words for herself.

"Aye-aye, Cap'n!" She gives him a salute before running back outside.

"Hey, no running inside, Taylor!" She slows down until she's just out of sight, looking over her shoulder to make sure her uncle couldn't see her before continuing to sprint back outside to the moving van they'd drove in from town. Shelby was busy organizing the boxes in the back with the heaviest in the back and the lightest in the front.

"Uncle Matt said to come help." She clambers up into the truck, barely able to make it since she didn't have a step-stool.

"How about you take your box of stuffed animals up to your room," Aunt Shel suggests with a smile. She was real pretty, the exact match of Taylor's mommy except for the nose, Shelby's was pert and cute while Mommy's had been a little too small for her face. Taylor beams up at her aunt, taking the kid-sized box from her and jumping down onto the porch steps before skipping inside.

"I'm helping, Uncle Matt!"

"Good job, Tay," he calls from the kitchen. A loud crash sounds a second later, followed by Matt cursing and Taylor giggling. She starts up the stairs with the box carefully balanced in her arms, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she focused on not toppling backwards. The box was small, but it was full and heavy, the stairs making it difficult to make it up to the second-floor landing.

She moves to the big door on her right, letting the box drop to the floor so she could turn the doorknob. Her hand had barely touch the cold brass when she heard creaking overhead. Taylor tilts her head back, staring up at the ceiling as the sound grows louder and heavier. It was like when her daddy would pace in his bedroom all night, the steps louder as he grows sleepier. He did it a lot when Mommy was sick, trying to stay awake in case she needed his help.

Taylor moves away from her bedroom door and starts for the stairs that lead into the attic, wanting to see if her daddy had shown up early and just went exploring. "Hello," she calls as she reaches the landing. "Daddy?" The room was as empty as it had been the day before, sunlight flooding the room and making all the shadows disappear into the corners. She was about to turn and go back downstairs when she got the feeling, the one that made her toes tingle and the hairs on her neck stand on end. "I know you're there."

"Leave," a voice hisses, distorted and accented like one of the guys from a pirate movie. "Get out of my house!" Taylor frowns, resting her hands on her hips like she'd seen her mommy do when Daddy made her mad.

"It's not your house anymore, Mister!"

"My house!"

"Knock it off!" She stamps her foot, glaring at the dark corner directly across from her. She couldn't see much beyond an outline, but she could tell he was taller than she was and had funny hair. "This is our house now and you need to behave." The man hisses again, but he disappears a moment later, the feeling going with him. Taylor allows herself to relax, taking one last look around the room to make sure it was empty before moving back down the stairs.

"There you are," Aunt Shel smiles. "What were you doing up there?"

"Showing someone who's in charge." She snorts, bumping Taylor's door open and disappearing inside with two boxes. Taylor follows her with her own box, depositing it down on her bed. Uncle Matt had come out before the others had woke up so he could set up their beds without worrying about Taylor getting in the way.

"What do you mean?" Taylor pauses and looks at her aunt, remembering what her mommy had told her a few days ago.  _They don't understand, they don't see the dead things like I do_. Mommy couldn't see them either, but she knew Taylor wasn't lying.

"I was playin'." Shelby gives a little shrug and starts putting clothes on hangers and hanging them up in the closet. Taylor opens her own box and starts removing the stuffed animals, lying them on her bed in three piles; bunnies would go together, teddy bears in another pile, and fishies in another. It didn't take her long to have them sorted out, tossing the box off to the side before arranging the animals on the little bookcase set up against the wall near the door. She didn't have very many books since she couldn't read yet, so the available shelves were always filled her animals.

"That's looking really good."

"Thanks." She doesn't move away from the shelves until everything was organized the way it had been in her old house. There was more creaking overhead and the two share a look, Shelby gesturing for Taylor to come over to her. She doesn't hesitate, crossing the room so that she could wrap her arms around Shelby's waist.

"You know what? You stay here and finishing unboxing your clothes and I'll go check out those noises." It was the same noises Taylor had heard earlier and she knew the dead man was up there, pacing around in the dark places. Taylor tightens her hold on her aunt, unsure if the dead man would hurt her or not since Shelby didn't know how to talk to him.

"Stay with me, please."

"Honey, I'm sure it's just a squirrel or something. Just stay here for me." Taylor tried to hang onto her, but her aunt was stronger and able to pry Taylor's arms from around her waist. "I'll be right back, I promise." Taylor watches with a frown as Shelby leaves the room, able to make out her light footsteps and the creaking of steps even with the louder footsteps overhead.

She waits in tense silence as both sets of footsteps completely stop, breath caught in her throat. She could feel the fear building in the pit of her stomach, curling like the smoke from the cigars her daddy liked to smoke with his friends. She felt like she was going to be sick, her palms growing sweaty as she grasped the doorframe of her closet, eyes on the door.  _What if something's happened and Aunt Shel can't scream? What if the dead man is bad and wants to hurt everyone here?_

Slowly, she shuffles across the room to the bedroom door, peering her head around just in time for Shelby to try to walk through, both of them jumping back with twin cries of fear. "Taylor," Shelby gasps with a hand over her chest," you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Did you see something up there," Taylor demands, looking beyond her aunt at the steps.

"No, I guess it was just the house settling. You know, these old houses make funky noises and it'll just take us a while to get used to them."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right."


	3. Where Thy Dark Eye Glances

**2016**

"The sounds started on our first night there," Taylor informs them, focusing on the teddy bear she held," it sounded like a piggy had come to stand right under my bedroom window and started to squeal. I only tried to find out what it was one time." She takes a deep, shuddering breath as she remembered that night. It had been cloudy and cold, so she was forced to wear her Mickey Mouse socks to bed, but they just made her slip when she tried to get away. "There was a dead man down there and he was using a gigantic fork to mess up the trashcans.

"A pitchfork," Nicolás clarifies at Sydney's confused look. "The…. The ghost was tearing up the trashcans outside and just howling at the top of his lungs. I'm not sure if it was one of those fuckin' hillbillies or if it was something else." He pauses when he realizes what he just said, then looks down at his daughter. "Don't repeat that bad word, Princess." Taylor nods obediently, used to him saying swear words from time to time.

"It was a dead man, he looked kinda like the bad woman." Taylor didn't like remembering the bad woman, it made her feel scared each time just like she was back then. Absently, she grasps her left wrist loosely and drops her gaze to the hardwood floor. "His eyes were all black in any sort of light and he was mean."

"He caused us a lot of grief during our time in North Carolina."

**2015**

After a long afternoon spent painting and setting up the house, Taylor could barely keep her eyes open as she stared down at her aunt's phone. Her eyes were drifting closed for the third time in less than a minute when the phone started to chime, signaling that her daddy was ready to FaceTime her that evening. It was part of their nightly routine, seven O'clock sharp, both in their PJ's and cuddled up in bed.

"Hey, Princess," Daddy grins," did you have fun today?"

"It took forever," Taylor complains," and we still ain't done with everything."

"I'm sorry, honey." She shrugs one little shoulder, snuggling under her blankets and taking the phone with her. "Are you ready for me to read you your bedtime chapter?" Taylor nods, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. She really was tired and she knew she still had specs of yellow paint stuck in her hair from where Aunt Shel had rushed to clean her up.

"Read, Daddy," she mumbles around another big yawn.

"Four of them met in the great council room of the castle," Nicolás reads softly, well-aware of the fact that his daughter wouldn't make it past the first page. "Prince Humperdinck, his confidant, Count Rugen, his father, aging King Lotharon, and Queen Bella, his evil stepmother. Queen Bella was shaped like a gumdrop—"

He's brought up short when the phone topples to the ground, and he grins when he hears the faint whisper of breath that meant Taylor was already sound asleep. With that grin still in place, he marks their spot in the book and sets it aside on his bedside table. The house was far too quiet without Taylor in it and he found himself wishing he could just hold her in his arms again.

He'd made arrangements to have his wife buried the next morning, but there was still the problem of selling their house and having the last few boxes sent out to North Carolina, where Matt would pick them up. On top of all that, he had to hand all of his open cases over to his associates so that he could really focus on setting up a new branch of the law firm in the new state.

He  _really_  wasn't looking forward to the paperwork.

He leans back against the headboard, massaging his temples and squeezing his eyes shut to keep his stress migraine in check. Nicolás was just so exhausted, but sleep continued to evade him, his dreams quickly shaping into the nightmare of the night Monica passed away. It was close to eleven, the shades were drawn to keep out any unnecessary light from outside, and his wife had been lying in her hospital bed; it was a simple thing they'd moved into the attic when Monica's cancer began to get bad. They didn't want Taylor to hear the vomiting or the crying, so the move to the uppermost level of their house seemed obvious to him.

Monica had been fine earlier that day, lucid, and she'd taken Taylor in her arms and read her a chapter of  _The Princess Bride_  before kissing her on the head and sending her downstairs to be tucked in by the maid that had been hired the month before. After that, it was just the two of them, Nicolás pacing back and forth in front of the bed to keep himself awake in case she needed anything and Monica passing the time by reading a book of poetry.

"…And all my days are trances," Monica read aloud, voice soft and like music to Nicolás' ears," and all my nightly dreams are where thy dark eye glances, and where thy footstep gleams—in what ethereal dances, by what eternal streams." He'd closed his eyes as she read, letting the flowing cadence of her words to wash over him as he paced. He would've listened to her speak forever if it were possible, the sounds instantly relaxing him even when he didn't think it was possible.

"That's beautiful, Mon," he murmurs. There was an instant of silent peace where nothing stirred in the house, and then there was the thump of her book hitting the floor, the ringing alarm of her heart monitor, and the steady, monotone hum that made his entire world splinter into tiny pieces like a mirror that had been thrown against the wall.

Nicolás had dropped to his knees hard enough to hear a crack, the dull pain spreading through his legs not even worth comparing to the way his chest ached. He'd beat at the floor until his knuckles were bruised and bloody, ground his teeth to keep the screams at bay, cried and cried until he thought he would drown in his tears. And all the while, the ache in his chest turned to stabbing pain and then a burning like someone had set fire to his heart, and it wasn't until he felt a tiny hand on his cheek that he realized he'd stopped breathing when Monica had.

He'd sucked in a huge breath of air and blindly pulled his little girl down to the floor with him so he could hold her in his arms, so he could know that she wasn't gone, too. Because if Taylor was gone, then he didn't have a reason to breathe again. He clung to her for the better part of three hours, rocking her back in forth like he had when she was first born, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair and just soaking up her warmth.

And now here he was, widowed and too stressed to handle his own baby while he planned the funeral of the love of his life. He was depressed, his therapist said so even if Nicolás hadn't asked the man's opinion, and he still had to remind himself to breathe every now and again, but his baby girl was going to be okay. That's what he kept reminding himself, it's what kept him going through the motions of owning a law firm and dealing with unruly couples that would rather fight over priceless vases than their own children.  _Taylor's still alive_ , he thinks with a breath of relief,  _Taylor's going to be okay_.

If only Nicolás knew what was waiting for him in North Carolina.

* * *

Taylor wasn't sure what had caused her to wake up at first, slowly sitting up in her bed and squinting at her surroundings. It takes her a moment to remember that they were staying in the new house, the fear beginning to dissipate as she laid back down on her bed. As she reaches for her teddy bear, a strange howling starts up outside her bedroom window and she sits straight up in bed again.

Everything goes silent for an instant—no creaking bed springs, no wind beating at the lose shutters—and then the howling started again, rising on the wind and squeezing through all the cracks of the house. It was strained and high, like the pig she'd seen on a school field trip that had just been slapped by its owner.

Taylor scrambles out of bed and over to the window, grasping the sill and peering out into the darkness. She could barely make anything out, but then the moon is uncovered from the dark clouds and illuminates the metal trashcan. At first, she just figures a pig from some kind of farm got loose and was wandering around, but then she's able to make out a person with a big fork, the screeching seeming to come from the man and the fork as it drives into the side of the trashcan.

He was tall and real skinny like a scarecrow, his face hidden by a dark beard that had grown all tangled with leaves, his skin was as white as her daddy's teeth. He glances up at the house, the moonlight bleaching most of the color from his tattered clothing. That wasn't the scary part, the scary part was that his eyes turned into black pits when he tilted his head back and let out another screech.

Taylor jerks back, her socks slick against the floorboards and sending her tumbling to the ground. "Uncle Matt," she yells, pushing herself backwards. She just kept picturing the scary man climbing through her window and stabbing her with his fork over and over again. "Uncle Matt!" She presses her back against the far wall, knees drawn up under her chin as she waited in fear, entire body trembling.

_What if the scary man already got Uncle Matt? What if I'm next and he's gonna hurt me bad?_

Her bedroom door bursts open and she lets out a surprised scream, wanting to move further back and unable to do so. The person standing in her room was tall and wide, a black shadow until he steps into the moonlight and reveals himself as her uncle. "Taylor," he asks breathless, pausing a few feet away," are you okay?" She leaps up and flings herself into his arms, holding to him with all she had because her uncle meant safety and good things. "Oh, baby girl, it's okay. I've got you, honey."

"He's out there," she sobs, burying her face against his bared chest. "He's outside!"

"Who is?"

"The man! It's the man and he's stabbing our trashcan!" Matt picks her up and quickly moves across to his own bedroom, depositing her onto his bed with Shelby. "Don't leave me! Please, Uncle Mattie, please!"

"Just stay with Aunt Shelby, okay? I'm gonna go scare the bad man away from here and then I'll be right back." Shelby pulls Taylor into a comforting hug, the six year old snuggling closer to her as Matt starts for the door. He was gone a few minutes, Shelby and Taylor holding onto each other like their lives depended on it, each of them wanting Matt to get back right that instant.

Sudden and loud clanging outside had both of them jumping, Taylor landing in her aunt’s lap with her face hidden by a curtain of blonde hair, though she couldn’t tell you if it was her hair or Shelby’s at the moment. “Matt,” Aunt Shel hisses, her hands shaking as they smoothed down the back of Taylor’s rumpled nightgown. “Matt, where are you?” They didn’t get an answer and Taylor felt like she might get sick at any second.

“No one’s there.” The unexpected and slightly too loud answer had Shelby letting out a screech and Taylor diving behind her, using Shelby as a human shield until she realized Matt was the one who’d spoken. “Sorry, guys,” he apologizes with a sheepish smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. “There was no one out there, but I think Tay should stay with us tonight.”

“Yeah,” Taylor agrees, clutching at her aunt’s covers,” I’m with Uncle Matt.”

They readjusted on the bed until Taylor was resting snuggled between them, Matt snoring loudly in her ear and keeping her awake. She looks to her aunt, but Shelby had fallen asleep too, leaving Taylor to deal in her own. Frowning, she wriggles all the way to the end of the bed and slides off, taking the top cover with her. She shuffles to her uncle’s side of the bed, pulling his second pillow out from under his head before finding a nice corner and curling up in it.

_He keeps snoring like that and everyone will think we own a firetruck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The passage Nicolás reads to Taylor is from William Goldman's The Princess Bride, page 81; the partial poem Monica reads is To One in Paradise by Edgar Allan Poe.


	4. Hailstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all the chaps will have the little interview scenes.

Taylor skips through the weeds in the front yard, her princess dress flaring out whenever she spins. " _I'm a little teapot, short and stout; here is my handle and here is my spout_ ," she sings into her little plastic microphone. " _When I get all steamed up, here me shout: Tip me over and pour me out_." Shelby grins at her, using a power-washer to clean the front porch of the dirt and leaves that had collected on it over the years; it was more like a wooden stage than a porch, wide and fairly close to the ground.

"You're doing great, Tay," Shelby praises, almost having to shout over the noise of the washer.

" _I am a very special pot, it is true. Here is an example of what I can do—I can turn my handle into a spout. Tip me over and pour me out!_ "

"I'm off to town," Matt says as he comes outside, easily jumping over the stream of water. "Anyone want to come with me?"

"I do!"

"I don't," Shelby says, scrunching up her nose and turning the power-washer off. "I still have to finish painting and I want to get some yoga done." Matt gives her a quick peck on the lips, Taylor making a face and turning so she wouldn't have to see it. Grown-ups kissing each other was nasty to her, she didn't get why they could just hug instead. Hugs were great, they made her feel all warm and cuddled.

"Uncle Matt," Taylor whines," let's get this road on the show!"

"Alright, Princess," he laughs," I'm comin'." She still hadn't turned around and a surprised squeal left her when he scooped her up in his arms unexpectedly. "What do you think? Should we stop at the Dollar Tree and find you a new doll?" She gives him the best serious look a little girl could manage, crossing her arms over her thin chest.

"Uncle Mattie, I have enough dolls."

"Is that right? Does that mean you're too old for cool toys then?" Her gray eyes go wide at the thought of no more toys, shaking her head rapidly back and forth.

"No, no! I need toys, I just don't need no dollies!" Matt laughs again, planting a loud kiss on her forehead. "Do you think the Dollar Tree here has any Play-Dough?" Matt frowns, sending a quick look at Aunt Shel before looking back down at his niece.

"Sorry, they stopped selling it because too many little girls were letting it melt and then getting it all in their hair." Taylor feels her tummy lurch, tears stinging her eyes as she realizes what must have happened. She'd done exactly that two weeks ago when they were all still in California, gotten the bright purple Play-Dough all in her hair 'cause she wanted streaks like her cousin.

"Did Santa tell on me," she asks in a hurt voice, bottom lip wobbling. Her Daddy had told her that Santa was always watching to make sure she belonged on the nice list, but what if he had snitched on her the one time that she made her Daddy want to pull his hair out? "Am I on the naughty list now, Uncle Mattie?"

"No, honey, of course not." He looked as panicked as she did, turning so they both could see Shelby. "Baby, tell her Santa didn't sell her out. Tell her before she starts bawling." Aunt Shel came over and brushed some of Taylor's hair behind her ear, her touch gentle like Mommy's had been.

"I promise that it's not your fault," Shelby says seriously, making sure to look Taylor right in the eye. "Some other girl's daddy probably called the Dollar Tree and told them about what happened to his daughter and it just so happened that she had the same problem you did. I'll bet Santa knows you were just playing around and he kept you on the nice list since you're such an awesome kid." Taylor gives a sigh of relief at that, her tummy no longer feeling like it was all tied up into knots. "Your only job today is to make sure your darling uncle doesn't forget anything on his list. Think you can manage that?"

"Yep," she confirms, nodding confidently as her nerves started to fade away.

"That's good. Now, you two better get on the road before this weather gets bad." All three of them look up at the overcast sky, the fat, gray clouds almost hiding the sun from view. Taylor liked these kinds of days because it gave her the excuse to curl up with her favorite blanket and watch Mash with her teddy bear. Uncle Matt hefts her up in his arms better and starts for the truck, letting her crawl in on his side and slide to the middle so that he could get in.

"Can I see the list?"

"Sure thing, kiddo," Matt says, pulling the folded slip of paper out of his pants pocket. It was crinkled from being shoved in there beside his wallet and the writing was tiny, but Taylor could still make out some of the words. She definitely recognized the word  _wallpaper_  since her mommy had bought new wallpaper for the kitchen three months ago, before she got really bad. They'd picked a peach color with little tea cups sketched on it in black, the design perfectly fitting that café theme Mommy had decided on when they first moved in.

"Why do you need wallpaper for?"

"We were thinking of turning that attic room into a space for all your toys."

"Can we get a princess wallpaper?"

"If they got it, then we'll hunt it down for you." She beams up at him as he fastens her seatbelt and then his own. "Can you read anything else on that list? I know there's another word you and I've been practicing." She turns her gaze back to the paper, scanning it until she found what he'd meant. It was eleven letters long and weird-looking, but she was able to read it aloud after a second or two of whispering it to herself.

"Screwdriver?"

"That's right. And what's the one right below that?" That practice continued all the way into town, Taylor able to make out three new words by the time they park in front of a store. She quickly scrambles out after her uncle, taking his hand obediently as they headed inside. The store wasn't very big and there were lots of toys hanging on the wall and set up on the shelves, Taylor able to spot the screwdrivers just beside the door.

"What's this place called?"

"It's a hardware shop, they sell all the tools we'll need to fix up our house." Taylor makes a noise of understanding, remembering the times she'd gone with her mommy to one of these places in California. Her mommy was really good at fixing things and she used to joke that the only thing Daddy could fix was his hair. "Hey, why don't you go get me one of those pencils over there?" She looks to where he's pointing further down the aisle, then gives a nod and runs off.

They were in a little box on a low shelf, sitting right next to little packages of round pieces of metal with a big hole in their middles. She picks one up, studying it curiously for a moment. "W-washer," she reads to herself," washers." Her nose crinkles as she looks it over, shaking her head. "What the heck do you wash with this thing?"

"Taylor, come on."

"Coming!" She sets the washer back in its box and grabs one of the wide pencils before hurrying back to her uncle and handing it over. "What's next?"

"Screws." They go to the aisle with a big sign hanging over it, the number 6 written on it in white chalk. It doesn't take her uncle long to find what he's looking for, dropping the box of screws into his basket before moving on. Taylor was growing bored of the hardware shop as they continued to go from aisle to aisle, wondering why this place didn't have any toys or candy. "You okay?"

"I'm bored. Can we go to the Dollar Tree now?"

"Just let me grab the wallpaper first." She nods with a frown, following him around and dragging her feet. She just wanted to go pick out her toy and go back home so she could play, but her uncle was taking forever. "Taylor Elizabeth Valiente," Matt scolds, turning to frown at her," if you don't stop the sulking, then I won't even go past the Dollar Tree on our way home. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." The wallpaper they decide on is pale purple with silver tiaras, the only girly wallpaper that was on sale besides the ugly green kind that reminded Taylor of mashed-up peas. After that, they were able to go to the counter and pay for it all, the woman working there making goo-goo eyes at Uncle Matt. Taylor didn't like her.

"And who are you," the brunette woman asks, leaning slightly over the counter to get a good view of Taylor. "Is she your daughter?" Her gaze moves back to Matt, but she doesn't move anything else, making her boobs stick out like deflating balloons.

"Her name is Taylor," Matt says with a polite smile, keeping his eyes on the woman's face," and she's my niece."

"Really? You two look a lot alike." Matt and Taylor share a look, brows furrowed as they looked for anything they shared besides attitudes. He was only her uncle by marriage, so they shared no physical likeness and it just made it obvious that this woman couldn't tell the difference between a black man and a Cuban girl.

"Uh… Thanks?" She nods excitedly, like she'd just paid them a compliment instead of showing how few brain cells she had left. "What's my total?"

"Oh, right." She pulled back and looked to the register, typing a few things before smiling at Matt again. "Thirty-seven dollars and eighteen cents." Matt pulls his wallet out and hands her the money, eager to get out before she asked him anything else. That's why Taylor liked her uncle, he was completely devoted to her aunt, like a prince out of a fairy tale. The cashier hands him his change and receipt, unable to get another word out as he grabs the bags and ushers Taylor out of the shop ahead of him. 

"What do you think?"

"I didn't like her," Taylor states honestly, letting her uncle put their stuff in the passenger's side of the truck. He lifted her up afterwards and she took up her usual seat in the middle, buckling her seatbelt herself as he climbed in. 

“I didn’t either.” She rests her head against his side as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking space. He smelled like the fancy cologne her daddy wore, meaning he’d used the stuff Taylor had picked out the other day because he knew she missed the smell of it. _Uncle Matt’s the best_.

The Dollar Tree turned out to be just two blocks away, busier than the hardware shop had been, but not by much. The town was tiny and Taylor couldn’t believe how people could live without a mall to go walking around in when they were bored. “I was a really good girl on the way here, you know.”

“I’m aware, Taylor.”

“And I wasn’t too bad in that dumb store.”

“I guess you weren’t.”

“So does that mean I can have—”

“Ask for Play-Dough and we’ll head home right now.” She purses her lips, but says nothing more as they get out and Matt leads the way inside. The store was tiny like the town was, all the shelves close together with toys piled up in some of the aisles; the fluorescent lights overhead kept flickering like they would go out at any moment. They stand in the doorway for a moment, ignoring the old couple staring at them as Matt tried to find the aisle with the toys that wouldn’t break after five minutes.

“Over here.” She tugs on his hand until he follows her over to the middle aisle where she was able to see outside toys. The left half was filled with the toys she liked, the right one filled with slippers and old lady shirts with the ugly floral designs on them. She scans the toys until she finds a sparkly blue jump rope, pointing at it with her head tilted back to look at her uncle. “That one, Uncle Mattie.”

“Anything else while we’re here?” She bites her lip as she thinks it over, then runs to the small rack of DVDs set up near the counter. They had all kinds all jammed together, but it still didn’t take Taylor long to find one she liked. It was a monster movie that used to scare here when she was a baby, but she’s pretty sure she can handle it now. “Are you sure,” Matt asks as he takes it from her,” it’s not gonna give you nightmares.” Taylor gives him a look that can only be described as patronizing, patting his arm once he’d taken the movie from her.

“I’m a big girl now, Graboids won’t scare me.”

“If you say so.” He picks out a movie for him and Shel before setting everything down on the counter. The person in charge of the register in this store was a boy with pimples all over his face and a Superman curl, working silently as he scanned the toy and movies and stuffed them in a plastic bag.

“Excuse me,” the old lady from earlier says as she comes over,” but I’ve never seen you here before.”

“That’s because we’ve never been here before.” Taylor scoots closer to her uncle, clutching at the hem of his shirt as the lady looks them over. “I actually grew up in the town down the road. I’m Matt Miller.” He holds out his hand for her to shake, but she just looks down her nose at it like he’s diseased. “Uh… This is my niece.” The old lady turned her gaze to Taylor, not looking impressed.

“She’s one of ‘em Mexicans.”

“I never been to Mexico,” Taylor says smartly, frowning up at the woman. “My mommy says there’s bad people there that hurt others that didn’t do nothing to them. Are you one of those people, lady?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you a bad person that wants to hurt someone ‘cause you don’t like what color they are?” The old woman looked mortified and Taylor smiles up at her sweetly, taking her uncle’s hand again. “Mommy said there’s a word for people like you, she said you’re called assholes.” Matt snorts, holding his hand out for a high-five.

“Well, I think that pretty much sums it up,” Matt nods, taking the bag and receipt from the cashier. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”  They were both smiling as they walked out of the store, Taylor just glad she’d finally been able to use her first swear word. “Remind me to feed you ice cream for breakfast in the morning.”

“Strawberry with whipped cream and sprinkles.” He lifts her up into the truck and follows suit, letting her hold the shopping bag while he began to drive again.

“Is there any other way to eat ice cream?” She pulls her new movie out to look at the pictures on the back of it, smiling at the two men dressed like cowboys and the giant worms that used to scare her. They were the size of cars and lived under the ground, and they used sound to hunt since they’re blind as bats. She was wondering if she could outrun one when a loud banging started up, making Taylor let out a cry of surprise and grab onto her uncle’s arm.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a hailstorm.” She raises her brows, Matt laughing when he meets her stare. “Little balls of ice are falling from the sky.”

“That’s weird.”

“That’s North Carolina weather.” She spends the rest of the ride watching the hail falling from the sky with wide-eyed wonder. If they had ice falling from the sky, then what other kind of funky weather did this state have? The worst bit of weather California usually gets is when the temperature dips below seventy, but that’s even rare in the Christmas month.

The combination of her restless night and the hail pinging off the roof of the truck, Taylor was fighting to stay awake not even halfway back to the house. Sleep was pulling at her and her grasp on her movie was growing slack, but she was nothing if not stubborn and refused to fall asleep when she needed to explain to her aunt what hail was.

Most of it had cleared up by the time they made it back to the house, Aunt Shel waiting from them on the front porch. “Aunt Shel,” Taylor calls, climbing over her uncle and jumping out before he even had the chance to undo his seatbelt,” guess what we saw on the way back!”

“I-I don’t know, what’d you see,” she asks distractedly. Taylor didn’t protest as she was picked up by her aunt, but she did when Shel tried to hug Matt and ended up smooshing Taylor between them. She wriggled until she was set back on her feet, then points up at the sky proudly.

“I saw a hailstorm!”

“You saw it, too?”

“Yeah, it scared me at first, but Uncle Matt said it was just normal weather. I gots a new movie, too!” But Shelby was focused on Matt, her arms wrapped tightly around him and her whole body trembling. “What’s wrong, Aunt Shel?”

“That hailstorm….”

“What about it,” Matt asks when Shelby trails off, pulling back so he could look at her.

“It was _human teeth_.”


	5. The Strong One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're supposed to be getting a winter blast in Oklahoma soon, so I thought I'd get this done before the snow/ice completely fucks up my internet connection. Hope y'all like it!

**2016**

"It was the bad lady that hut me," Taylor explains quietly, grasping her left arm and rubbing the faint scar there. "I was going downstairs to the living room to pick out a movie and she started yelling at me." Taylor flinches at the memory, parts of it blurry while others were clear as a bell. "She said we was trespassing on her land and that she would bathe in our blood if we didn't leave. I didn't believe her, none of the other ghosts have ever been able to hurt me, and I told her that it wasn't her house no more. I told her I wasn't afraid of her and that made her mad." 

"What did she do to you Taylor," Sidney asks, leaning forward in his seat with his notebook perched on one knee. Taylor leans back instinctively, wanting to put some space between them. After that night, the bad night that still made her wake up screaming, Taylor didn't like strangers to be close to her. 

"She punched me in the stomach and then she kicked me down the stairs. I don't remember a lot of it, but I remember my arm hurting after I landed on it and how bad the shot the doctors gave me felt. After that, I just got really mad and I wanted to hurt the bad lady back." Taylor looks up, her gaze locking with Sidney's. "I still want to make her hurt like she made us. I  _will_ do it one day." 

**2015**

It was almost eight at night when Shelby heard a little knock on the door of her bedroom, looking up from her book in time to see her niece poking her head through the gap between the door and the wall. "What's up," she asks Taylor with a smile.

"Daddy's done reading," Taylor answers, stepping inside with the cellphone clasped in both of her hands. She looked so unsure of herself and kept her eyes on the ground like she was afraid to look up or something. It was odd behavior, but Shelby supposed that she had acted pretty odd herself when her own mother passed away. She still felt that ache in her chest, but it seemed to have doubled now that her older sister had died of the same illness.

"You wanna come sit with me for a little bit?" Taylor nods and slides her feet across the floor, her Mickey Mouse socks making her almost glide over to the bed. Taylor is able to climb up onto the bed by herself and she scoots close to Shelby's side, smiling a little when Shelby wraps an arm loosely around her shoulders.

"Do you think Mommy went to Heaven?"

"I'm positive that she did. In fact, she's probably looking down on us as we speak, making sure her baby's all nice and warm." Taylor nods, but her smile slowly turns into a worried frown. "What is it, honey?"

"I miss her." Her eyes have filled with tears and Shelby holds her tightly against her chest, wanting nothing more than to bring Monica back so Taylor would have a mother that knew what she was doing. Shelby could barely take care of herself at this point, the house giving her the creeps and the loss of her own baby making it difficult to stay in the present instead of checking out completely. "And I miss my daddy."

"I know you do, baby," Shelby murmurs, rubbing the little girl's back soothingly," and I'm so sorry you're having to go through all of this." Shelby's eyes sting with tears, but she fights them back for the moment. She needed to be strong right now, for her niece if nothing else. "You know what? Why don't we go curl up on the couch downstairs like we used to when you'd come visit me?" Taylor sniffles and pulls back to look up at her, using her fist to wipe her tears away.

"With blankets and pillows?"

"And hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows." Shelby smiles when her niece does, brushing some of the blonde hair off her face from where the tears had made it stick. It was still so weird to see how similar Taylor and Monica looked despite Taylor's light brown skin; the same button nose, pale gray eyes, and beautiful smile that made Shelby glad to claim this kid as her family. "You go and pick out the movie and I'll gather up our stuff." Taylor gives and excited nod, scrambling to get off the bed and running across the room.

"Aunt Shel?"

"Yeah?" Taylor had paused in the doorway, one impossibly tiny hand grasping the frame as she looked at Shelby over her shoulder.

"I love you bunches." Shelby manages a laugh at that, relief making her chest feel a little less tight. Taylor was affectionate, but she wasn't the type to say those four words very often and it made Shelby glad to know that she was still loved despite bringing Taylor all the way to North Carolina with its creepy houses and toothy hailstorms.

"Ditto, Princess." Taylor giggles at that and sprints away, Shelby able to hear her footsteps on the stairs. Knowing Matt would be in the kitchen and perfectly capable of helping guide Taylor away from any monster movies, Shelby focuses instead on piling pillows in the middle of the bed before wrapping them all up in the heavy comforter.

This was an old tradition from when Shelby was still going to college and Taylor would come visit her in the dorm. The two of them along with Shelby's roommate would all pile up on the couch with all the pillows and blankets they could find, drink hot chocolate and eat French Fries from McDonald's, and then they'd watch Disney movies or the Star Wars trilogy. It usually ended with all of them passed out halfway through, Taylor lying across their laps with dried chocolate and salt covering her face. It was back before Monica got sick, so it should give Taylor something fun to focus on instead of the fact that her mother was currently being buried.

Shelby shakes her head and moves across the hall to Taylor's bedroom, humming as she picks up the little teddy bear and Taylor's favorite pillow. It actually belonged to Nico, but Taylor brought it with her whenever she stayed the night so she still had part of home. Once she had those in the nest of blankets, Shelby moves to the top of the stairs and freezes in confusion.

Taylor was standing on the bottom step, brows furrowed as she looks up at the top where Shelby was standing. "Taylor, are you okay?" She doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at something with narrowed eyes. She seemed to be growing angry or frustrated about something, but Shelby couldn't be sure about what it is. "What are you doing?"

"She's being mean," Taylor practically growls, raising her chin ever so slightly. "She's yelling at us to get out, but it's not her land anymore."

"Who's yelling?" Was she having some kind of seizure? Blanking out of reality or just imagining something because she's so tired? Shelby wasn't sure, but the fact that her niece was yelling at some imaginary woman had her on edge.

"The bad lady." Taylor's hands bunch into tight fists at her sides, some of her hair falling loose from the braid it was still in. "Go away! I'm not afraid of you!" What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion, Taylor letting out a choked gasp as she doubles over, small body flying backwards off the stair and flipping midair. Shelby was paralyzed, only able to watch in terror as her niece lands hard on her arm, the loud  _crack_  and her shout that followed breaking the spell.

Shelby dropped everything she held, taking the stairs two at a time and dropping to her knees when she finally reached her niece on the floor. Taylor was crying loudly, clutching her wrist against her chest as Shelby turned her over and hauled her up into her arms. Her upper lip was bleeding and there was a dark red mark visible just over the neck of Taylor's sweater, but neither of those things were what caused Shelby to feel sick to her stomach.

"Oh, my God," she gasps out, turning her gaze to Matt as he comes running into the room.

"What the hell happened," Matt demands as he kneels next to them, staring down at their niece with wide eyes. "Shelby!" She jumps at the shout, shaking her head a little.

"I don't…. She was yelling that there was a bad woman on the stairs and then she just went flying backwards like someone had punched her. No one was there, Matt, I was the only other person on the stairs and I was at the very top! Oh God, her wrist!" The wrist of her left arm was dented in the center, a bit of white bone sticking out surrounded by blood that stained the white fabric of Shelby's pajama bottoms.

"Go get her coat and shoes and meet me in the truck." Matt scoops her up in his arms and starts to run. "And get something hard to rest this arm on until we get her to the hospital!"

* * *

Shelby looks up as Matt walks back into the hospital room, his hands full with two cups of coffee and a balloon tucked under his arm. "I stopped by the gift shop," he explains, handing Shelby a cup before setting the other on a table and tying the string of the balloon to the hospital bed," I thought she'd like it when she woke up." Taylor was still fast asleep because of the anesthesia, her left arm in a purple cast.

"She'll love it even more because it came from her favorite uncle."

"I'm her only uncle." Shelby smiles up at him, sliding her free hand into his and squeezing it. “Unless your aunt gets married again, then I’m her only uncle that isn’t into ladies pushing fifty.”

“Which definitely makes you the best.” He gives a soft laugh, sitting beside her on the edge of Taylor’s bed. The thought of her only niece being hurt so badly in a place where she’s meant to feel safe makes Shelby’s stomach churn. She wasn’t even sure how it had happened, one second Taylor was yelling at some kind of invisible friend and then she was flying through the air. It was just so wrong and horrible.

“Daddy,” Taylor moans, reaching out blindly until Shelby grasps her little hand.

“Aunt Shel’s right here, baby.”

“I want my daddy.” Shelby props her up just enough to slide in beside her, wrapping Taylor up in her arms. “Why isn’t Daddy here yet?”

“He can’t get a flight out yet, but he said he’s coming as soon as he can.” Shelby had called him as Taylor was wheeled away to get her bone reset, telling him that his daughter had simply fallen down a couple of stairs since there was no real way to explain what had happened. All Shelby could think of was ghosts, but that was ridiculous. “Go back to sleep, you need your rest.”

“We can’t go home.”

“Why not,” Matt asks.

“’Cause the bad lady is there and she wants to hurt us.” Shelby and Matt share a look, each of them wondering if one of the hillbillies had put the idea of ghosts in Taylor’s head. Shelby certainly would put it past them since they seemed just the type to terrify a little girl with an overactive imagination. After all, one of them had been screaming and tearing up the trashcans just two nights ago. “She said she’s gonna make us hurt real bad, Uncle Matt.”

“Don’t you worry, Princess, I won’t let anyone lay a hand on you for as long as I live.” And sitting there in the hospital, rage burning in Matt’s dark eyes, Shelby could believe it. Matt was a man of his word, if he said he’d protect this little girl, then not even a spider would come between the two of them. It’s why Shelby loved him so much, his need to protect everyone he loves and cares for.

She’d been so scared after the attack in California, when he didn’t wake up for so long in the hospital, but then he’d squeezed her hand and his eyes had opened. Even recovering from his surgery, he’d put her needs first and agreed to move the first chance they got because California held too many bad memories for her to stay there a moment longer than was necessary. And then Monica had passed away in the middle of the night, leaving Nico inconsolable and Shelby numbed by shock.

Monica had been the strong one, always there when Shelby needed someone to lean on. It would be years until Shelby stopped reaching for her phone first thing in the morning, wanting to call her sister and ask how the night had been. Now Shelby had to be the strong one, she had to make sure that Taylor was dressed for the day and fed, had to check up on her brother-in-law every other day to make sure he hadn’t fallen to pieces as he planned the funeral.

Shelby had to be there for her family and she’d hurt anyone that tried to stop her.


	6. Shrill Screams

**2016**

“That was a bad night,” Taylor says after a moment of tense silence,” I don’t like talking about it.” She shakes her head, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them as she stared down at the floor. It was clean, just like the other interview rooms she’d seen on the way here, not even a hint of dirt to ruin it. She could see her reflection in the linoleum; it was warped and hard to make out, but it was still there.

“How did that night start,” Sidney asks, ignoring the look Nicolás sends his way. The older man wasn’t happy about any of this, but it was the only way that his daughter would actually open up about what had happened. It was traumatizing to him, so he knew it had to be even worse for a little girl that couldn’t process everything as quickly as an adult. The few times she did drift off were often plagued by nightmares and Nico hated listening to his baby’s screams.

“Uncle Matt left us.” She sniffles and Nico reaches out a hand to smooth down her hair. “He had to go to work selling things for his company and Daddy was still in LA.”

“I’d buried Mon that afternoon,” he says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. “There had been a delay due to the preacher being sick and I still had to deal with paperwork.” He gives a dry laugh, remembering that day with grim smile. “Turns out owning your own firm isn’t as easy as I thought when I graduated college.” Things had been so bright back then, he had a good job that would give him experience, he had a wife that was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, and a little girl that would be born any moment, though she appeared three days late all the same.

“It was already dark when Uncle Matt left and Priscilla was confusing, but I couldn’t talk to her because Aunt Shel was nearby and she didn’t believe me. I think she was in the Nile.”

“ _Denial_ , Princess.”

“That’s what I said.” He manages a huff of laughter, running a hand through his dark hair while she continued talking. “Aunt Shel spent two days telling me that ghosts aren’t real and I must have just tripped going down the stairs. Anyway, she was going to play in the hot tub and said I could go upstairs to snoop through the box that Daddy had sent, so that’s what I did.” She looks up at Nicolás, her fingers toying with the straps of her shoes. “Edward helped me read part of Mommy’s favorite poem and a little after that was when Aunt Shel started to scream.”

**2015**

It took a few days for Taylor to get used to her cast and not being able to use her left arm for anything, but she managed well enough as she sat in the living room and practiced writing. "At least you're not left-handed," Matt comments as he and Shelby come downstairs. He stops beside her and bends down to press a kiss to the top of her head like he always did before he left. "And you're doing really great with your E's now."

"I always made good E's," Taylor protests," you're just jealous that yours aren't as swirly."

"Hey, where'd you get that necklace, Tay?" She grasps it loosely in her right hand and holds it up so she can see it again, smiling at the oval stone surrounded by small circles of gold and pearls.

"The man in the attic gave it to me because I got hurt. He said he didn't like me, but that no kid should be pushed down the stairs by someone bigger than them." Matt and Shelby share a look before both of them kneel in front of her, taking necklace off of her to look at it closer. Taylor thought it was really pretty and she would've given Edward a hug for it if he hadn't put his hand against her head to stop her in her tracks.

"When was there a man in our house?"

"He's always in our house, you just can't see him like I can." She shrugs, taking the necklace back and giving her uncle a tight hug. "I love you, Uncle Mattie."

"I-I love you, too." He presses another kiss to her forehead before standing with his suitcase in hand, watching as she gathered up her papers and crayons. She struggled a little since she could only use one hand, but she managed to get everything together before running up the stairs to Matt and Shelby's bedroom. Matt would be gone for the next couple days because of his work, so Shelby had Taylor sleeping next to her. Taylor wasn't sure why she couldn't sleep in her own bed, but she thinks it has something to do with her aunt being scared.

She sets her things down on the bedside table before crawling up onto the big bed and wiggling under the covers, her teddy bear held tightly against her chest as she tried to fight sleep for a little while. She wanted to say goodnight to Priscilla like she had almost every night since moving in. The little girl wasn't very fun to play with inside the house, always disappearing when an adult came near or the constant exposure to light making her eyes look like black pits, but she would bring in flowers and was helping Taylor to make a circlet of them.

Without fail, the sound of small feet on the wooden floor started up and then Priscilla was standing beside Shelby's side of the bed, head cocked to the side. She wasn't happy, she never was, and her blackened lips were drawn down in a frown like she was disappointed about something.

"What's wrong," Taylor whispers, not wanting to get in trouble with her aunt. "Why are you so sad tonight?"

"She's angry with you," the little girls says, her accent thick and hard to understand. "She's going to hurt all of you if you don't leave." Taylor frowns too, bottom lip poking out as she thought that over. "You have to make them leave, Taylor."

"Or what? She can't hurt my aunt and uncle since she could barely manage to punch me."

"Don't be so stupid, the Blood Moon is almost full and you know what that means!" Taylor opened her mouth to remind the ghost that she didn't know what it meant on account of Priscilla keeping it a secret, but that's when Shelby decided to walk inside. They locked gazes for a moment, Shelby looking more confused than ever while Taylor looked as though she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Uh…. Sweet dreams?"

"I'm gonna go take a dip in the hot tub, do you want to come," Aunt Shel asks, deciding not mention Taylor talking to thin air again.

"No, I wanna stay up here."

"Okay, yell if you need me." Taylor nods and turns her gaze back to the dead girl, not surprised to find that she wasn't there anymore. "Nico's package arrived this afternoon when you and Matt were taking a nap if you want to go dig through it."

"Where's it at?"

"That upstairs room. I figured we could set up his office in there so he could have some peace and quiet to work." Taylor wasn't entirely sure what her daddy did, but she knew he was gone a lot and he argued with people in his fancy suits. Her mommy always liked it when her daddy dressed up, calling him her handsome man. "How are you feeling, Taylor? With all of these changes, I mean."

"I guess I'm okay." She shrugs, turning on the bed so that her legs dangled over the edge. "I still miss when Mommy would read me those stories, the ones that rhyme."

"So do I, honey." She moves to run her fingers through Taylor's hair, wondering when it had gotten so long. "That book of poetry is in that box your daddy sent, so why don't you go check it out and we'll both change into our jammies when I get back inside?"

"Sounds like a plan." Taylor slides the rest of the way to the floor and sprints out onto the landing, her shoes keeping her from sliding on the hardwood floor as she makes a sharp turn to go up the narrow staircase. She liked the attic room best, it was where half of her toys had ended up since the grumpy ghost was up there every now and again.

Edward wasn't the nicest person in the house, but sometimes he would ruffle her hair or talk about the dresses women in his time had worn. They were like the dresses that Princess's wore when they went to balls, the skirt flaring out as they spun, and made up of silks. He liked to talk about those kinds of things and Taylor was certain she could pass an art class with how much he talks about his old paintings.

The room is empty when she finally makes it up the stairs, the box her aunt had told her about sitting right under the window. Taking a moment to look around, Taylor quickly crosses the room and kneels in front of the cardboard box, pulling the flaps open so she could peer inside. There were a few folders inside that Taylor knew was work stuff, a few T-shirts that her daddy liked to wear on the weekends, the book of poems, and the little quilt that had been made for Taylor's crib by her great-aunt.

She pulls the quilt and book out before curling up beside the box, using the moonlight pouring inside in order to make out the note written on the inside cover. The letters were slanted to the right slightly, swirly and pretty the way her daddy always wrote. ' _Beautiful poems for my beautiful wife_ ,' it read, Taylor tracing the letters with one of her fingers. Monica used to read it aloud every time they curled up in her bed to read for the night.

"T-thou wast all that to me, love," Taylor attempts to read, some of the words hard to pronounce," for which my soul did pine—" She cuts herself off, staring at the poem in confusion as she tried to figure out what a soul had to do with pine trees. "This guy don't make any sense."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance?" She looks up at the new voice, spotting Edward standing just inside the room. He didn't look happy, he never did, but he didn't look annoyed either.

"I thought you hated spending time with people."

"Yes, but I couldn't stand hearing you butcher poetry. Scoot over, child." She does, making room for the ghost to settle down beside her and take the book out of her hands. In the moonlight like he was, she could see the bones beneath his skin and the pits of his eyes. "Thou wast that all to me, love, for which my soul did pine—a green isle in the sea, love, a fountain and a shrine, all wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, and all the flowers were mine."

His voice was soft as he continued to read, like he'd forgotten she was there altogether and was reading to someone that he cared deeply for. She liked to think he read to the guy he loved, the one that ran away from here to get help from the police and was never allowed to come back.

"Ah, dream too bright to last—!" Both of them look towards the window when shrill screams reach their ears, the sound muffled by distance and the thick panes of glass. "What on earth is that racket?"

"Aunt Shel!" Taylor scrambles to her feet and runs out of the attic without a second thought, managing to get down the stairs and to the front door before an arm wraps around her waist and hauls her up off her feet, their other hand pressing over her mouth to cut off her screams.

"Quiet or they'll terrorize you, too," Edward hisses in her ear, kicking the front door closed. She struggles to get out of his grip, but he was stronger than he looked and had no trouble carrying her into the pantry. He dropped her there without preamble, one shoe-covered foot pressed against her chest to keep her down. The heel of it hurt every time she wriggled, but she was stubborn beyond anything else. "They cannot kill anyone just yet; your aunt will be fine."

"I don't believe you!"

"And I don't care! I'll not have a child killed in my home while I'm around to stop it." She glares up at him, breathing hard and going limp beneath his foot. "There, now was that so bad?" The second his foot left her chest, she was up and running again with Edward chasing after her.

"Aunt Shel, Aunt Shel!" She actually made it outside this time, barreling right into her aunt and sending them both to the ground. Shelby sits up quickly, wrapping Taylor up in her arms and sprinting back in the house, pausing only long enough to make sure the front door was locked before continuing up to her bedroom. "What happened?"

"The hillbillies," Shelby gasps, dropping Taylor on the bed and diving for her cellphone. Her hands were shaking as she dials, but she manages to get the police on the phone all the same, followed by Matt.

The next thirty minutes were spent in tense silence, Shelby holding Taylor close once she'd changed out of her bathing suit. Taylor remained quiet even after the police showed up demanding to know what had happened, knowing they would never believe that it was ghosts and not crazy people that had attacked her aunt.  _What was the point of telling the truth when nobody believed you?_

So Taylor had been sent to her room and she stayed there until she heard her uncle Matt downstairs. He caught her as she came running to him, holding her out a little so he could look her over for any bruises or cuts. "Are you okay," he asks, voice breaking at the end," still in one piece?"

"Just scared," she assures him with a nod, wrapping her arms around his neck as he starts up the stairs. "Aunt Shel won't come out of her room and those police guys were really rude." He pauses outside the bedroom, looking to his niece again in concern. "They said she was making stuff up, they said she just wanted attention since I didn't see what happened. I heard her screaming, Uncle Matt, she was  _scared_  of something."

"It's alright now, Tay, I'm gonna protect you both." He turns and goes into Taylor's room, gently sitting her down on her bed and removing her shoes and socks. "Right now, I just need you to get ready for bed while I go talk to Shelby, alright? I'll be back in few minutes to read you a story. Goodnight, honey."

"Night, Mattie."


	7. Children of the Corn

**2016**

“Edward kept me safe when the other ghosts came inside the house,” Taylor says, smiling a little when she remembered the way his eyes had softened. They were dark brown like her daddy’s and stood out against the white pallor of his skin. “Aunt Shel, Lee, and me were stuck in the basement and that’s where he found us.”

“What happened before that, Taylor,” Sidney asks with his Hollywood Smile. It looked as fake as the rest of him and his assistant seemed like the only person on his crew that didn’t suck. Diana was nice and pretty, and she liked to sneak cookies inside the interview room during the breaks.

“Oh yeah, the nurses threatened to kill me during the full moon. The skinny one said she was gonna hang me up by my ankles and cut me.”

“What,” Nico asks, eyes wide as he stares down at her. Taylor just shrugs off his response, trying not to focus too much on how scared she had been.

“I was yanked out of bed by my hair and then I started to run away from them. That’s when I met Lee and Aunt Shelby downstairs, they looked even more scared than I did. You see, there were weird noises coming from the basement and Lee likes to investigate things; she’s even braver than Velma.”

**2015**

Taylor doesn't look away from her Playdough when she hears everyone coming into the house, focusing on making a hat for one of her Polly Pockets. "Taylor," Matt scolds lightly when they came into the living room," say hi to Lee."

"Hi, Lee," Taylor mumbles distractedly. Lee was Uncle Matt's sister and she'd be staying around until Daddy got here, but that didn't mean Taylor was happy about it. Lee always snapped at Shel and gave her dirty looks when she wasn't looking, which usually led to Taylor getting in trouble for saying rude things. "Aunt Shel, can you help me with this?"

"Sure thing," Shelby smiles, coming to kneel in front of the coffee table. "What do you need?"

"I can't make a flower for the hat."

"Let's see here…." Shel takes an itty-bitty amount of pink Playdough and one of the plastic knives that came with the set, carefully cutting until she had a perfect circle. "And now comes the fun part. You make it completely flat and cut a few lines just like this." Taylor leans in close to see how her aunt was doing it, watching as she used the tip of the knife to make the edges of the flower petals round. "And voila!"

"Thanks, Aunt Shel."

"You're very welcome, Tay." Taylor picks the new flower up, careful not to squish it as she lays it down on the little hat, using part of a toothpick to pin it in place. "That's really cute."

"Daddy taught me how to do it before I left. He said everyone should have a nice hat even dollies."

"Your daddy was right." Taylor smiles as she gently sets the hat on the blonde doll's head, an almost perfect fit, though it was a little large on her. "What's this one's name?"

"Tabitha." Taylor didn't notice the way Shelby's smile dimmed or the way her shoulders tensed up, the older blonde not liking the name in the slightest.

"W-where'd you come up with that name?"

"I heard Mommy saying it last Halloween and I liked it. It's a pretty name, huh?"

"Yes, of course it is." And the subject was dropped, but now Taylor could feel how stiff her aunt was next to her.

"Are you okay, Aunt Shel?"

"I'm fine. Um, I'm gonna go find Matt and see if he's staying for supper." Taylor nods, watching as her aunt takes the stairs two at a time like she couldn't wait to get away. Taylor didn't see what the big deal was, it's not like they knew anyone with that name anyway. Shrugging, she grabs another doll and props her up against the empty box her Playdough came in, using some string and a marker to measure her head.

That's how she spent the next hour, making hats while Lee and Matt talked about their mom and Shel flipped through one of her cookbooks. She didn't have very many and half of them were from the boxes that Daddy had sent over the last week, but she liked looking at Mommy's handwriting and so did Taylor at nighttime.

By the time Matt said his goodbyes and left, Shelby was already in the kitchen preparing dinner while Taylor stayed in the living room with the TV on. Aunt Shel said TV rotted your brain, so Taylor didn't get to watch it that much and she was taking advantage of the fact she had a broken arm and couldn't play much. "Don't you have something better to watch," Lee complains as she comes into the room," like Batman?"

"Rugrats is better," Taylor replies, munching on some cucumber slices," and Reptar could totally step on Batman." Lee scoffs and walks off to the kitchen, Shel beginning to yell a second later. Taylor rolls her eyes, snuggling down further on the couch and watching as Tommy and the other babies run away from the big dinosaur.

* * *

 

You know how in bad dreams when you see something scary, you can't scream? It's like it's stuck in your throat and all that comes out is a hoarse sound? That's how Taylor was feeling as she stared up at the two women in her room, taking in the nurses' uniforms they had on the sharpened knives in their hands. They were smiling, but looked more like the witch in the gingerbread house than like nice people.

"Aunt Shel," Taylor whimpers, clutching her teddy bear fearfully," Lee." Tears stung her eyes and her throat felt tight, like her fear was attempting to strangle her. She just wanted to get up and run out of the room, but she couldn't move, she was afraid the woman would get her if she left the safety of her bed.

_Isn't that how it always went? Wasn't there always some hidden monster under the bed just waiting to grab the ankles of little kids and pull them down into their lair?_

"What's her name start with," the skinnier one asks, head tilted to the side.

"T," the other states with a frown," T for termite. She's completely useless for us."

"I've never killed a little kid before. Do you think it's different than adults and old people?" The chubby one's smile widens, her teeth looking too white and too sharp in the darkness. They were only illuminated by Taylor's nightlight, the pinks and purples not doing much to help Taylor see them better. "I'll bet she squeals like a little piglet."

"Maybe we'll find out soon." The skinny one bends down and grabs a handful of Taylor's hair, wrenching her off the bed and to the floor with a shout. "As soon as the moon is full," she snarls," I'm going to string you up by your ankles, cut you open, and see what falls out."

That was enough to break the spell, Taylor sprinting down the stairs and screaming for her aunt. Lee snatching her up without warning only made her scream louder, but a warm hand cupped her cheek and she recognize the scent of vanilla lotion her aunt was fond of using. "Are you okay," Lee demands in a whisper," what happened?" Taylor wanted to tell the truth, wanted to tell them that they should all get out of the house, but the tears were coming too fast and her sobs wouldn't stop.

"Here, let me have her." Shelby takes Taylor from Lee and holds her tightly, though it wasn't easy since Taylor wasn't a toddler anymore. She was a big girl and she was certainly getting heavy.

"Stay up here while I go check out those noises."

"Not happening."

"Look, the baby is obviously upset and I doubt following after an intruder is goin' to calm her down any."

"And if one of them is up here? What, you think I'm strong enough to actually hold them off? I may do a lot of Yoga, but I've got the bravery of Scooby-Doo and the fighting experience to match." Lee gives her an unamused look, but says nothing more as they start for the door that leads to the basement. Now that Taylor was beginning to calm down, she could head the sound of a man laughing, the noises growing louder when Lee opens the door. "Where's your gun?"

"Where it's supposed to be when there's a kid in the house, locked up in a drawer upstairs." Lee is the first one to start down the stone steps, one hand holding tightly to the railing in case one of the steps was slick.

"Shouldn't we go and get it?"

"Do me a favor and shut the hole under your nose." Taylor was set on her feet once they reached the basement, the six year old hiding behind her aunt as Lee pulls a heavy-looking wrench out of an old tool chest. The room was mostly dark as they continued forward, only one overhead light, little more than a lamp, working; it cast an eerie glow in the large room, throwing most things into deep shadow.  _Edward would like it a lot down here_.

"It's coming from the TV," Taylor whispers loudly, pointing one little finger at the big black box across the room. It wasn't flat like she was used to and it was chunky, but it was working just fine and hooked up to what her daddy called a camcorder. The video playing on the screen was of someone running with the camcorder pointed at the ground, a man talking over it like in nature documentaries.

“It came back,” the man behind the camcorder was panting, every sound seeming even louder as it echoed off the concrete walls around them. “I knew it was real!” The man was panting and swinging his camera around wildly, zooming in on droplets of blood on dying grass and on the trees whenever he heard a noise. “It’s close, I know it is.” The camera was shaking again, blurring whatever came on screen next, but then it evened out just enough for Taylor to see a man wearing a pig head.

“It’s a monster,” Taylor cries, turning and burying her face in her aunt’s shirt. The Piggy Man let out a loud shriek, like the ones they’ve all been hearing since their first night in the new house. It was loud and hurt Taylor’s ear, and she was beginning to wonder if she could ever forget the noise. “Piggy Man’s gonna get us!” Shelby wraps her arms around Taylor, but stays quiet with her gaze focused on the dirty screen.

“Got you on camera,” the man was say, voice high,” you son of a bitch.”

“What the hell was that thing,” Shelby demands, voice tight with fear.

“I have no idea,” Lee returns. The video ends, the sound of static not helping Taylor’s nerves any. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” She turns and picks Taylor up, holding her on one hip while holding the wrench in her free hand. They barely got two feet away from the TV when the door slams shut with a _bang_ , the light goes out, and the TV screen flickers off. The floorboards overhead was squeaking loudly, like an elephant was parading around the house.

“Someone’s up there.”

“Yeah, a lot of them goin’ off that noise. Shit, get down.”

“Why?”

“Someone just walked by that window.” Lee nods towards the small, dust-covered window that led outside, allowing only blurred reflections and not much else. “Taylor, honey, I want you to get under this table and make yourself real tiny, alright? Pretend you’re a little mouse hiding from kitty.”

“Alright,” she nods. She crawls past one of the wooden legs and curls up into a little ball, keeping her back to the others and the stairs. She tries her best to stay quiet, both hands pressed over her mouth as her aunt quietly begins to freak out. There’s a couple of dull thuds and then a light illuminates their section of the room, low to the ground as it moves around. “What—?”

“It’s okay, it’s just our flashlight.” Taylor nods and allows her gaze to wander around the room until she finds a pair of familiar shoes on the other side of the table. They were old and looked girly, little two inch heels, and birdies painted along the sole of them. She shuffles closer to the feet, glancing past the stockings, breeches, and fancy tops until she could make out the ashen features of the ghost. Without any light on him, she could make out his high cheekbones and dark brown eyes as he kneels down in front of her.

“Easy, child,” he tells her, reaching out to lay one gloved hand on top of her head. “Those blackguards won’t be coming down here anytime soon. Rest and I will watch over you.”

“You don’t like me,” she reminds him, voice too soft for the others to hear.

“I may have to make an exception before your time here is through.” She gives him a small smile, glad to see what he looks like without the whole Jack Skellington illusion he had going on in daylight. “Sleep, and dream for me. There is a quote you should know while living here, written by a great man that aptly applies to my home. ‘If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here, while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream.’”

“I like that quote, it reminds me… Of the one…” She yawns and her eyes begin to close as he smooths down her hair. “My mommy said.”

“Your mother had excellent taste, then.” But Taylor didn’t hear him or anything else he said, sound asleep and safe in dreamland where the only thing she had to worry about was slaying dragons with her teddy bear fighting alongside her.

She didn’t stir as Lee picked her up and Lee was grateful that at least one of the blondes was quiet as they started back up the stairs. The door swung open easily and the house seemed empty of intruders again, though what they left behind was disturbing on more levels than one. Little, straw dolls were suspended from the ceiling by rope, like Halloween decorations.

“Were we visited by the Children of the Corn or what,” Lee demands irritably. She didn’t want to let on how much it scared her, especially because the webbing of string and dolls continued all the way up to the second floor’s ceiling, where no one could reach even if they had help. It was impossible without a ladder and Lee certainly would’ve recognized that sound if there had been one used.

“How did they do all of this,” Shelby asks from beside her.

“I don’t know, don’t really want to know either. Go and call the cops while I tuck Taylor back into bed.” As Lee moves to stand in front of the steps, she found one of the strings barring the way, reaching from one railing to the other with a doll in the middle. “Or I guess I’ll put her on the couch.”

“You don’t have to worry about covering her up, she just kicks them off.” Lee nods, carrying the baby into the living room and depositing her on the small loveseat. She wasn’t overly fond of the kid, too spoiled for her liking, but she was a mother above all else and she couldn’t resist tucking a lock of blonde hair behind Taylor’s ear to keep it off her face.

“At least you’re able to sleep,” she says quietly, sitting by the little girl’s feet. Lee would probably be awake for the rest of the night, trying to figure out when and how the intruders had got inside without anyone noticing. They were obviously skilled at it since they were able to roll that damn wine bottle into her room without alerting anyone else. _But something must have scared the baby_

Perhaps they had a ladder outside and had come in through Taylor’s bedroom window? It would explain how they’d snuck past Shelby downstairs and why the kid was so frightened when she came running downstairs. There were two groups if that was the case, one working upstairs and the second coming in through the front door to set up the camcorder and TV.

Lee’s train of thought is cut off by sirens, the flashing lights and noise a comfort after sitting in dark silence for thirty minutes or more. It had felt like hours down in the dank basement, but her internal clock was usually right in the long run. She lets Shelby lead the cops inside, not wanting to leave Taylor alone for too long in case someone was still inside. A six year old would put up less of a fight and be the easiest target, so Lee stayed right beside her.

“You must be Mrs. Harris,” the head honcho says as he walks into the room. He was big and white enough to almost glow in the dark, looking less than pleased to have been called from his cushy office in the middle of the night. “Think you can come out here and give me your statement?”

“Think you can come in here and get it,” Lee shoots back, nodding at the slumbering form next to her. The cop frowns and comes in, sitting himself down on the coffee table like it was his God-given right to plant his ass anywhere he felt like it.

“Alright, start at when you noticed somethin’ was wrong.”

“It was eleven-thirty, I think, I was sleeping upstairs in the guest room—”

“You don’t live here?”

“No, I’m just staying out here while my brother is away on business. Like I was saying, I was sleeping upstairs when I heard this howling noise, like someone was standing right outside my window with a bullhorn and an angry pig. I got up to look out the window and somebody rolls a wine bottle into my room.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they’re some kind of prick, I don’t know.” She takes a deep breath to steady her temper before continuing. “I though Shelby was pulling some kind of prank on me at the time and went down stairs to confront her, but the front store started opening in the middle of our argument.”

“So you and Mrs. Miller were fighting?”

“For a grand total of two and a half minutes, yes. I heard the door open and went to see who was walkin’ in, heard some noises in the basement, and was gonna go down to investigate when Taylor here came sprinting down the stairs.”

“She tell you why?”

“She was too upset to do anything other than cry, but there were no sounds upstairs. The way I figure it, someone was probably up there and scared her shitless. Either way, she came running down the stairs and I handed her off to my sister-in-law to calm her down. After that, we all went down the stairs and found some sick homemade video of a crazy guy running through the woods.”

“Do you still have it?”

“Yeah, you’re welcome to go get it from the basement. After the video ended, the door slammed shut, lights went out, and TV turned itself off before a ruckus started up here. Sounded like there was a party goin’ on, people just stomping all over and running around the house. We were stuck down there for at least thirty minutes before everything quieted down again. Those creepy dolls were waiting for us when we got back upstairs and that’s when I told Shelby to call you guys.” The cop grunts, scribbling something down in his little notepad before standing again.

“Well, looks to me like it’s vandalism. I’ll write up a report when I get back to the station.” Lee scowls as he goes down into the basement and she’s still looking sour when Shelby comes in a moment later. “That guy was a complete asshole.”

“You should’ve seen how he was when the hillbillies tried to drown me in the hot tub.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Edward uses is Puck’s monologue from A Midsummer Nights Dream by Shakespeare.


	8. Déjà Vu

It was late when Nicolás arrived at the house, cutting the ignition and getting out to have a look around. It was large, reminding him of those old horror movies he used to watch in college, surrounded on three sides by dense woods. "Honey," he mutters as he opens the trunk," I'm home." Nico shoulders his pack and grabs the box holding a few legal documents he has to look over, then slams the trunk closed and starts for the front door.

It would be weird living so far away from California, but at least he would be able to see his little girl in person again. He's missed hearing Taylor running through the house and the random hugs she liked to distribute, so it would be nice to settle back into a routine. Smiling at the thought of seeing her face light up, Nico unlocks the front door and steps into the front hall, gazing up at the curving staircase in wonder. His house in Cali had been pretty big, but this place really took the cake.

He follows the sound of soft voices, coming into a nice living room that smelled freshly painted, spotting Matt’s sister sitting on the couch with a half-awake little girl lying nearby. Taylor had her head in Lee’s lap, mumbling sleepily about something or another, too soft for Nico to understand.

“They got you on babysitting duty,” he asks, grinning when Taylor’s head snaps up and a smile brightens her face. Taylor’s off the couch and hurdling towards him in five seconds flat, practically throwing herself forward with the blind faith that her daddy wouldn’t let her fall. He catches her with a grunt, hefting her up to sit comfortably against his hip. “Nice to see you again, Lee.”

“Yeah, you too,” she mumbles back, standing slowly.

“Where is everyone?”

“The hospital right now.” Nico arches a brow and Lee shrugs in return. “Shelby ran off in a crying fit and Matt went after her. Apparently he found her a few minutes ago as she came bursting out of the woods like a crazy person before fainting. The text Matt sent me ended up waking Taylor and I was just explaining that things would be okay.”

“There was bad people here,” Taylor says, eyes shiny with tears. “They ran around the house and- and they pulled me out of bed by my hair!” She points to a spot close to her scalp and Nico can see flecks of dried blood interspersed in the blonde strands.

“Well, I’m here now,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her tender head. “No one’s going to be hurting my girl again.”

“You’ll scare ‘em off?”

“That’s right, Princess.” He sets her back down on the couch long enough to put the box on the coffee table before taking a seat himself. His daughter curls up in his lap, burying her face in his neck. “Why don’t we go on upstairs and I’ll read to you?” He’d hoped the suggestion would be met with agreement, but Taylor only tightens her hold and shakes her head. “It’s almost three in the morning, Taylor. I get that you’re worried about Shelby, but it’s way past your bedtime.”

“You can’t actually get upstairs yet,” Lee tells him. “The intruders strung up these weird dolls that crisscross all over the stairs and I haven’t had a chance to take them down. I didn’t want to leave Taylor by herself in case those freaks come back for a second round.”

“Seriously?”

“Come see for yourself.” He follows her back into the entryway, noticing for the first time that there were crudely made dolls hung up on strings that wound in between the balusters and dangling from the second-floor railing. “Corn husk dolls, like kids would make way back when.” Lee shakes her head, the disgust clear. “And those hillbillies think that’ll scare my brother out? If nothing else, he’ll stay just to show those racist they’re not scary.”

“It wasn’t the hillbillies,” Taylor says.

“Then who was it?” She doesn’t talk again, not even looking up to see the expectant expression on Lee’s face. “She’s the only one that got a good look, but I think she’s too scared to talk about it. Can’t say I blame her, I’d probably be scared if someone snuck into my bedroom, too.”

“Let’s just take this crap down so I can get upstairs,” he grumbles, setting his daughter back on her feet. She doesn’t stray far as he and Lee begin untying the intricate knots, Nico beginning to wish he had his glasses since the knots seemed to get smaller and smaller the further up they got. By the time they made it to the second floor, an hour and a half had passed and his fingers were beet red.

“At least that’s finally done. Now, if you’ve got Tay, I’m gonna go collapse in my bed for seven hours. If something happens before I wake up, then just leave without me.” She disappears around the corner, leaving Nico and Taylor behind. The six year old was curled up on one of the stairs, attempting to wiggle a finger into her cast to scratch at the dry skin there. He knew from personal experience how itchy casts were and made the decision to dig a ruler out tomorrow for her to use until the cast was removed.

“How are you feelin’?” She shrugs in answer, not quite meeting his gaze. It took him sleep-deprived brain a full minute to realize she was looking at something over his shoulder, but he finds nothing when he turns to look himself. Sure, there was an alarming build-up of dust on the floor, but nothing that would hold his daughter’s attention so fully. He looks back to Taylor, but she’s still not paying him any attention, laughing at something. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Daddy,” she says quietly, but she was still smiling. “Can we go to bed now? You can sleep with me until Lee goes home.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She springs up and grabs his hand, leading him over to one of the doors and pushing it open. It was about the same size as her old bedroom, painted a pale yellow with white trim, a few posters of kittens and fairies tacked to the walls as decoration. Her bed was just a twin-sized, some old Christmas lights twined around the headboard and shining a beautiful sky blue color. The floor was the same wood as the rest of the house, though there was a fuzzy yellow rug right beside her bed and an old toy chest set against the foot of it. Shelby had done an excellent job replicating Taylor’s old room, no doubt hoping it would make the transition easier.

“Come on!” It’s only then he realized he’d stopped in the doorway to examine everything, feeling as though he’d been transported back to LA for a moment. His daughter pulling impatiently on his hand to make him come read her a bedtime story, the sound of footsteps just down the hall that meant a woman was getting ready for bed, and the smell of strawberries lingering in the air from Taylor’s lotion. It was almost too perfect, his eyes stinging as he blinks memories away.

“Right, sorry.” He follows her inside, tucking her in beneath the thick pink comforter. “What are we gonna do tonight?” It was an old tradition, one they’d done Taylor’s whole life, and the blonde’s smile brightened even further.

“Have sweet dreams!”

“That’s right, the sweetest of dreams ever had.” She wiggles around until she’s leaning half off the bed, scooping up a book before resituating herself so that she’s comfortable again. Nico takes the book from her, letting out a surprised laugh when he recognizes it. _The Princess Bride_ , Monica’s well-cared for copy he’d sent with Taylor when she first came to stay with Matt and Shelby. “Alright, now that we know what kind of dreams we’ll be having, let’s find out how Buttercup’s doin’.”

He had barley found the right page and looked up again when the faint snoring reached his ears, Taylor sound asleep with her hands fisted in her covers. She was completely relaxed, features softened and all traces of sadness washed away as she entered dreamland. With a soft smile, he reaches out to adjust her left arm, careful not to wake her up as he pulled some of the comforter out of the purple cast. He studies it a moment, taking in the names printed in block letters across it, though his smile disappears when he makes it to the elbow. The name there was written in cursive with several flourishes to it, looking more like professional calligraphy as he attempted to make it out.

“Who the hell’s Edward,” he mumbles, leaning closer to get a better look. As far as he knew, there were no Edwards in Matt’s family tree and there damn sure hadn’t been any visitors to the house that would’ve had the chance to sign her cast without her telling him all about it on the phone. Sure, it could’ve been one of those police officers, but Taylor hadn’t sounded very pleased on the phone when she talked about them, so he doubted it.

But the evidence was right there on her cast, signed using a black Sharpie and still looking beautiful. How was that even possible? He could barely write his name in Sharpie on a fucking box without it bleeding through and looking awful, but this man had managed enough swirls and loops to take up the entire elbow. He shakes his head with a sigh, deciding to just ask her in the morning and hope it wasn’t just one of her imaginary friends again.

With a grunt, he stands and places the book on top of her bookshelf near a Pooh Bear plushie before heading back downstairs. He was exhausted, but he knew the front door needed to be locked. His mind wouldn’t let him rest until he knew the house was secured, so he went down the list of things he would’ve done in their old house; lock the doors, check the windows and draw the blinds, and then going back to check the alarm system only to find it missing.

Nico pulls his phone out and types in a memo to buy an alarm system the next time he goes into town. With everything that’s happened at this place, he wasn’t taking any risks when it came to his baby’s safety. Pocketing the phone again, Nico grabs up the box he’d left in the living room and heads up the spiral staircase. Taylor was still sound asleep when he poked his head in her room, so he felt comfortable that he could go up in the attic for a few minutes to sort through his stuff.

The boxes were piled up against the far wall beneath a window, clearly labeled with black Sharpie that still bled into the cardboard no matter how careful he was. _Maybe I should get some lessons from that Edward guy_. He lets his box drop to the ground, ignoring the dust motes that swayed in the moonlight as he began digging around.

He ended up spending a good three hours in the attic just trying to find some clean pajamas and clothes for the next morning. One of the boxes had already been opened and Monica’s book of poetry was missing, Nicolás’ heart beating out a fast rhythm as he tried to find it. That was the one book she treasured above all others, so why the _fuck wasn’t it here?_ He remembered settling it carefully on top of everything else in the box, and then sealing it twice with packaging tape to make sure it wouldn’t fall out. Yet here the box was, both layers of tape suspiciously missing along with the book.

“No,” he mutters, tipping the box over and dumping the contents out. “No, no, no. Where is it? Where’s the goddamn book?” He was just about ready to storm downstairs and wake Taylor up to see if she’d taken it when he heard a loud thump behind him, the noise like a gunshot in the otherwise silence of the house. Nico spins on his heal, short strands of his black hair hanging in his eyes hindering his sight. He pushes them back impatiently, letting out a whoosh of air when he spots a blue-green book lying near the stairs.

He didn’t question why he didn’t see the book when he walked in or what made the god-awful loud noise at first, letting relief consume him as he scooped the book up and held it tight against his chest as though it was his wife he was hugging instead of her favorite book. In fact, it wasn’t until he heard the pacing of footsteps nearby that he even bothered to look around.

The attic was still empty apart from him, the faint light not revealing the cause of the noise. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a tingle shot up his spine, a feeling a Déjà vu slamming into him like a truck. Suddenly he was in another attic and he was a little boy, talking to a woman that wasn’t really there and no one but him could see. He knew she couldn’t possibly be real, but his child’s mind simply accepted the woman as fact.

With her floaty hair and kind blue eyes, how could she possibly not be real? Her name was Taylor Morris, she’d told him, and she liked to play on the old tire swing in the back yard. She’d mussed his hair the first time he’d acknowledged her and spoke in fluent Spanish like his abuelita, telling him how happy she was that she had someone that could see her again. He remembered the smell of honeysuckle that was prevalent in the south during the summer months, the warmth that filled the attic, and the absolute heartbreak when he had to leave again before school started.

His abuelita passed away soon after that and her house was sold to a nice white couple, so he’d never seen the nice dead woman again. It seems she’d never really left his thoughts considering he’d named his daughter after her, the name carrying a sense of nostalgia even if he wasn’t sure why at the time. Now it was clear and he couldn’t help a smile as he came out of the memory, honeysuckles following him back. Nico takes one last look around the dusty room, tightening his hold on the book.

“Thank you,” he says to the dead man just barely visible in the shadows.

[Outfits](https://www.polyvore.com/beautiful_escape/collection?id=6024246)


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